


Honey, I’m Home

by Sincerely_Sierra



Series: Alice [3]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Baby Alice, Baby Fic, Disordered Eating, F/F, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: Becoming nuclear sucks.Or, Mildred returns to the workforce as Nurse Ratched, and Gwendolyn becomes a housewife.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Alice [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061582
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Honey, I’m Home

**Author's Note:**

> Friends! It’s almost Christmas! That’s not really relevant to this, I just thought I would point out that we are so close to ending the year and I’m excited! How do we feel about a Ratched Christmas story? 
> 
> There’s nothing really to say here, except a caution for mild homophobic language. Oh! And a big thank you for all your support on this series so far! 
> 
> —Sincerely, Sierra

Time was not a thing in their household. The couple now had a two-month-old on a rainy October Monday—the first of the month, which settled quite nicely with Mildred. New beginnings starting on a first felt incredibly right and safe for her, although she would hardly consider Lucia State Hospital as new.

Betsy Bucket had delivered Mildred’s nurse’s uniform last Monday. This Monday would be the first Monday in a long time that Betsy would not have to deliver anything to their door, because Mildred could fetch anything after work before returning home to Gwendolyn and not have to worry about Alice screaming and causing a scene in the middle of the supermarket. 

That morning, at seven as it drizzled on outside, Mildred lazily rolled out of bed to the sound of her alarm, as she did every morning, and half expected to find Gwendolyn still snoozing away, but instead found her at the stove, hovering over something that smelled quite delicious. She hummed positively at Gwendolyn and moved behind her to wrap her arms around her waist. 

“Morning,” Mildred murmured into the crook of Gwen’s neck. “Something smells good.”

“I made eggs, bacon, and pancakes. You need to eat something good before your first day back at work,” Gwendolyn insisted as she flipped a pancake to the gooey side, watching it splatter across the cast iron skillet. “Go on. Have a seat. I’ll serve you.”

Mildred was a bit uneasy as she sat down, and she began fiddling around with the cutlery Gwendolyn had set out for her. Alice had not yet awakened, as she was beginning to sleep in slightly longer stretches at night, but a fresh bottle of formula was prepared and set out on the table with the syrup bottle and creamer. Mildred’s first intention was to feed Alice as she’d done every morning, but as Gwendolyn procured a full plate of food for Mildred and placed it before her, Mildred’s intentions were as lost as her car keys were. 

“You are wearing a frilly apron,” Mildred observed. Her tone seemed somewhat amused but also befuddled by Gwendolyn’s pinkish, floral apron. “I thought you were joking about that.”

“I wasn’t,” Gwendolyn assured, kissing the top of Mildred’s head. “Now, eat your breakfast. I’ll get Alice and take care of her while you get ready. I know you may not be able to finish it, but try, please.” 

Uncertain of where to begin, Mildred picked up a fork and poked her egg until it bursted apart like flames from the sun. Of course she picked at it for a few minutes as Gwendolyn’s back was turned while tending to the baby asleep in the laundry basket, but as Gwendolyn returned to the table with sleeping Alice in one arm and the full laundry basket in the other, rested against her hip, Mildred felt inclined to take a bite. 

Although a bit concerned Mildred would go hungry that day and possibly faint on a patient’s deathbed, Gwendolyn praised Mildred’s current efforts to eat with another kiss on her cheek. Mildred took a few more bites of each food on her plate before pushing it away. Her stomach felt too expanded and she could not physically stuff any more food in her body. Those bites had been enough to sicken her. 

“I’m going to get dressed,” said Mildred. “Unless you would like me to feed the baby. I won’t see her until dinnertime. I would like the company before I go off to work.”

Gwendolyn offered Alice up and allowed Mildred to cradle her in her lap, with her tiny legs folded into themselves like frog and her head rested softly in the palm of Mildred’s hand. The nurse was able to quietly rouse the baby with a few gentle kisses around her face, and although Mildred leaned more towards a feed on demand schedule and waking Alice to feed seemed selfish, those eyes of Alice’s were all too precious as they opened wide. Alice grunted as she stretched her body out in Mildred’s lap, and Mildred contently hummed.

“Good morning, honey,” Mildred cooed. “I’m going to miss you so much while I’m gone.” 

What would Alice care? She was two months old and had only recently learned to stabilize her head enough without Mildred or Gwendolyn concerning themselves with the possibility of her neck snapping. With always being constantly held and cradled, Mildred feared Alice would become a hip baby as she grew and learned to hold her head up. Mildred always frowned upon the hip babies she had frequently seen in her many foster homes; in fact, one of housewives had infant twin boys at the time of Mildred’s short-lived stay, and they cried and screamed at all hours of the day, even during the time they sat upon their mother’s hips like giant leeches. 

Spoiled, Mildred would bitterly think of them. But that was due in part to her slight envy.

Releasing her thoughts, Mildred sharpened her focus to the task at hand; feeding Alice. She tested the milk on her wrist and began to feed the baby, her eyes locking on Alice’s as she drank quietly. For a moment, Mildred considered telephoning Betsy and telling her she cannot go through with it, but that would not be very nuclear of her. 

Gwendolyn was throwing laundry and dirty diapers into the laundry basket while Mildred continued feeding and burping Alice. Her damned apron was interfering with everything, and she wondered briefly if the normal housewives had these same problems or if this was a punishment from the universe telling her that only heterosexual women were meant for this type of duty. 

“Please take off that apron,” Mildred mused, baby on her shoulder. “It’s giving me a headache just looking at it.” 

“Lesbians can do it, too,” Gwendolyn curtly reminded. “You never seemed like the type to be nuclear, though. I know you enjoy working, and so do I, but never once in my life did I see myself this way. A housewife. Like all those women doing their grocery shopping at the Five and Dime. Last week, I overheard two women discussing their lack of intimacy in their marriages, and it baffled me how normal it seemed to them.”

Mildred chuckled. Since the incoming of Alice, Mildred could not say her and Gwendolyn’s intimate life was unbothered by the change in routine, but they certainly seemed to have more sex than the average nuclear American couple, even with a child. Cotton balls fit nicely in Alice’s ears as a preventative for her rousing when the bed was rather squeaky. 

“Well, we don’t have to be completely nuclear,” Mildred propositioned as she stood and returned a very full Alice to Gwendolyn. “If we became very nuclear, we would probably be miserable.” 

“I hung your uniform in the bathroom,” Gwendolyn informed, shifting Alice to her other shoulder so the baby could peer above it and practice her focal vision on whatever she could find. “I ironed it out for you.”

“You ironed my dress?” Mildred asked, her eyes softening. “You’re taking this role very seriously, aren’t you? But thank you.” 

She pressed a quick kiss to Gwendolyn’s lips and rubbed Alice’s head as she stepped into the bathroom. There was her green dress, with the pin on the collar, and suddenly Mildred was brought back to the precipice of her past, of the first time she’d ever seen Gwendolyn carrying around a briefcase in the governor’s tracks as they toured around the hospital. And then there was the conversation about bologna that Mildred, to this day, had issues understanding. 

With shaky hands, she removed the hanger from the dress and pushed herself out of her nightclothes, allowing them to fall around herself at her ankles. Gwendolyn had set out fresh undergarments for her, and they were hanging next to the clean diapers, inviting Mildred to slide them on. 

If she were being honest with herself, Mildred had almost forgotten how to properly fasten a bra. Her fingers struggled agonizingly to clasp it, and she became frustrated with herself and tossed the damned thing to the ground, forgoing it altogether. She did, however, wear her silk underwear, because one little breeze up her dress and she would be humiliated in front of the entire nursing staff. 

Fitting into the dress brought forth many cumbersome but also positive memories for Mildred. She seldom considered Gwendolyn being shot or Huck being murdered, because she had tried for so long to repress those memories, but she also remembered, with great fondness, the first time she saw Gwendolyn in passing, the first time she’d ever spoken a word to her—the damn sack lunch and bologna incident, a great thank you to Betsy Bucket. 

Mildred quickly washed her face, brushed her teeth, and applied whatever makeup she found in the bottom cabinet. She was used to being bare-faced and fresh, and makeup seemed like such a hassle, but for the sake of society, she did. And she despised it. 

Her hair was not difficult in the slightest to tease and tame. With a good combing and a quick updo she’d mastered over the years, Mildred was able to slip a fine clip into her hair and call it a day. And suddenly, when she looked in the mirror, she was no longer just Mildred Ratched, or Gwendolyn’s partner, or Alice’s accidental mother. She was nurse Ratched. 

Gwendolyn just about choked on her buttered toast. It had been many years and several unfortunate circumstances since she’d last witnessed Mildred in her uniform, but what a delightful treat this was. 

“No need to stare,” Mildred murmured, shifting slightly uncomfortably under Gwendolyn’s haughty gaze. “It’s a little itchy.”

Gwendolyn kissed Mildred again and allowed her hands to flow to her sides. Their moment was prematurely severed by Alice fussing on the bed, propped against a pillow. Gwendolyn scooped her up and held her in one arm as she gave Mildred one final kiss. 

“I have your lunch ready,” Gwendolyn said as she procured a metal lunch box from the table and allowed Mildred to study it in confusion, as if she wanted so badly to open it to ensure it was something she would make herself. “Don’t worry. It’s a sandwich and a peach. I added leftover bacon, in case you wanted to expand your tastebuds a bit.” 

Mildred chewed the inside of her cheek. She understood Gwendolyn’s pure intention of coaxing her to eat a little healthier, although her diet did not expand much beyond extruded meats and fresh fruit rolling around in the fridge collecting whatever germs and spilled liquid was there, but she was concerned that the greasy bacon would ruin her peach or the aroma would tarnish the sandwich and her entire lunch would be ruined. 

Without fretting, Mildred thanked Gwendolyn with a kiss, then placed one to Alice’s head. The baby smelled so fondly of baby powder and gentle bath soap, with Gwendolyn having given her a warm bath in the kitchen sink the night before. Mildred’s heart floated down to her feet. 

“I can’t leave her,” said Mildred. “She’s too young. And so fragile. She needs me. She needs both of us.”

“I’m here,” Gwendolyn assured. “Nothing will happen, I promise. Now, you’d better hurry before you’re late and Betsy has your head.”

“Alright, but please telephone if—“

“I will. Promise,” Gwendolyn repeated, this time balmier and more forgiving. She walked Mildred to the door, Alice contently observing her mothers from the peaceful crook of Gwendolyn’s arm, not quite understanding of the change in her short life that would seem drastic to an infant. “I’ll see you tonight. We both will. We’ll be just fine.” 

“My keys—“

Gwendolyn pulled Mildred’s car keys from the large pocket of that hideous apron and placed them into the palm of Mildred’s hand. Maybe they could do this after all. Maybe all the fears, the sleepless night leading up to today, were all mere illusions. 

“I love you,” Mildred said. 

“I love you, too.”

Tears fought their way into Mildred’s eyes as she made her way down the long gravel path to where her car was awaiting her. Gwendolyn stood in the doorway with Alice onlooking as they both watched Mildred struggle to unlock her car, at which point she shrieked in frustration and kicked the tire. Gwendolyn’s initial reaction was a laugh, but it quickly morphed into horror. 

“Mildred! That’s not your car!” Gwendolyn called from the doorway as the sun began to rise. She urgently pointed her finger to the right, and the heat flushing across Mildred’s face and neck as she read the license plate and identified it as definitely not her car—a slightly darker shade of blue—was perhaps the sweetest thing Gwendolyn had seen all morning. 

The grunting and rock-kicking that ensued as Mildred walked to her car and successfully unlocked it this time around was glorious. Gwendolyn raised Alice’s arm and waved it as a passing gesture to Mildred as she pulled away, the gravel making a painful noise that bloodied Gwendolyn’s ears. 

“Say goodbye to Mama,” Gwendolyn cooed to Alice, and the way “mama” rolled off her tongue felt just right. 

Gwendolyn was at a loss when she closed herself in the room again. She propped Alice on the pillow and sighed as she plopped down next to her, her hand resting on her chin. She’d been a housewife for five minutes and was already mindlessly bored. Alice hiccuped and a trail of spit up dribbled down her clothes and onto the clean comforter. 

Gwendolyn sighed and smiled. “Well, there’s something to do.”

—

Mildred was beside herself that morning. Her shift had begun at nine, and it was twelve-thirty when Betsy relieved her for her lunch break. Mildred quickly found herself bouncing between two possibilities: try her differing lunch Gwendolyn had packed, or skip lunch and leave a message for Gwendolyn to give the hospital a call so she could soothe her bubbling anxiety. 

She felt incredibly needy. She didn’t want to bother Gwendolyn or insinuate that she was incapable of properly handling Alice and the housework alone. To avoid angering or upsetting Gwendolyn, Mildred pushed away her stress and booked it to the break room, her breaths short and shallow. Her head was throbbing and pulsating like sun flares. 

The room looked only slightly different. The wallpaper. Mildred missed the old, greenish floral wallpaper that had once lined the break room. Now it was pink and bright and matched the terribly chosen countertops. Mildred sighed and grabbed her clunky lunchbox from the fridge. She sat where she typically would always sit; near the window, away from everyone else, although no one had come to join her just yet. 

The sandwich had been packed nicely in cling wrap, perfectly sealed from the monstrosity that was the greasy, slimy bacon that Mildred probably should have microwaved. She did not bother with it, finding the dripping oil to sicken her enough to throw it away altogether. She bit into her sandwich and felt herself falling into every possibility of Edmund finding Gwendolyn or Charlotte hurting Alice. The mere idea of such things shallowed Mildred’s breathing long enough for her chest to tighten. 

The sound of heels clacking and women giggling did not help to better Mildred’s onset of anxiety, although Mildred contained it well enough to avoid the looks and whispers. Two nurses, both older in age, swirled into the room in a blur of bluish green, and they invaded the fridge and took two brown paper bags before sitting together at the table opposite Mildred. 

Mildred could not help but overhear the women’s conversation, the matter of which caused a tinge of red to flood her face as she quietly sank her teeth into her peach, comforted by the cool, delectable sweetness that flowed down her throat and into her trembling stomach. 

“And I thought my luck was bad,” a red headed nurse chuckled into her sandwich. “I felt so sorry for him. Imagine if this happened to you! You walk into your home, expecting to see your husband there reading his paper, but instead you find him pounding another man on your brand-new sofa!”

“Sickening, I tell you. That woman should be ashamed of herself, twice over. One for engaging in such a perverted act, and another for doing it in her husband’s home,” the other nurse added. 

Mildred could not eat any longer. She felt full—full of anxiety and dread—and slammed her lunchbox closed, causing the two nurses to jump in their seats and whip their heads towards her. She stared at them, almost unwillingly, before sliding out of her seat to throw the bacon and remnants of her peach away. She wrapped the other half of her sandwich in a napkin and laid it gently inside her lunchbox, keeping it perfectly aligned so the goodness would not slide out, in case she wanted to finish it later, if she could manage. 

“You must be the new nurse,” said the redhead. “Ratched?”

“Yes. Mildred Ratched,” replied Mildred as she placed her lunchbox into the fridge. Her eyes zeroed in on the women. “You are?”

“Dorothy,” the redhead said as she bit into an apple. 

“Ethel,” said the other nurse. 

Mildred was not good at communication. Even when Gwendolyn had first approached her regarding a missing sack lunch, Mildred did not quite understand how to respond. At what point did a conversation cease? Only at goodbye? Or was there a drift in communication that signaled the end? 

“Well, nice to meet you. I’ll see you around,” Mildred clumsily murmured. 

She left the break room in a whirlwind of emotions. How could those women feel comfortable to speak of such things and people so openly? Mildred did not comprehend much, because her ability to comprehend was foiled by thoughts of Alice and her dear Gwendolyn at home, probably jaded and eager for her return. What if Edmund had gotten to them already? What if Gwendolyn needed help with the baby and could not cope? What if? 

Betsy stopped Mildred in her tracks as she found her anxiously clacking along the hallway. Stumbling back, Mildred sighed in relief, although she did not favor being touched at that moment. 

“What’s got you flustered?” Betsy questioned. “Your break doesn’t end for another fifteen minutes.” 

“I need to use the telephone,” said Mildred. “I have to—“

“You have to check on Gwendolyn and Alice, I already know. But I can promise you they’re fine,” Betsy assured. Her demeanor was much softer in the new lighting of the hospital; less rough and ragged. “Go on. Go check on them. After your break ends, please administer Mrs. Wrangler’s medication. She’s becoming aggravated.” 

“Of course.”

Mildred rushed to the telephone and called the motel, and of course she would have to leave a message with the new owner, Mary, she remembered it as, but she also knew Gwendolyn would telephone her in return, because Mildred Ratched was a piece of work that Gwendolyn did not mind working for or around. 

She left the message as quickly as possible and dried her damp hands on her dress. The other nurses behind the desk were watching with cornered eyes, and Mildred scowled at them as if they’d just offended her or kicked her puppy. The turned away and resumed writing or doodling or whatever it was; absolutely nothing, Mildred thought. 

Mildred sighed and watched the clock strike one. She rushed to Mrs. Wrangler’s room and prepared to force-feed her a giant pill, and it preoccupied her for awhile, until the woman bit her and she woefully ventured off to find antiseptic, those tears continuing to linger and burn. 

—

Perhaps Gwendolyn did enjoy being a housewife. She spent quality time with the baby while doing basic household chores, because what could possibly be done in a small motel room? She’d done the laundry, folded the diapers, organized a tin full of pins, and bleached the sink. The fridge was now organized by color and food group, and it would surely upset Mildred to not be able to find her bologna at first glance, but Gwendolyn would allow her to fix it if it made her feel any better. 

At four in the afternoon, when Alice awakened from a long, self-fulfilling nap with a wide stretch, Gwendolyn scooped her up from the laundry basket and kissed her forehead. 

“We need to get you a proper sleeping arrangement,” Gwendolyn told Alice. “You’re getting much too big and long for the dresser and the basket.” 

Alice had learned to socially smile early on. She was much more contended with every day life now than she’d been when the couple had found her in a milk crate. Mildred taught her to smile by forcing herself to smile each time she held her. It was now a social cue that warmed Gwendolyn’s heart, because it meant their baby was finally understanding that she was allowed to be safe and happy with them. 

“I just love that toothless smile,” said Gwendolyn. Alice smiled impossibly wider. “I’ll get you a bottle and we can start dinner for Mama. How’s that sound?” 

The baby cooed in delight as Gwendolyn carried her to the kitchenette and warmed a bottle of formula under hot water. Alice did not seem all too hungry yet, so Gwendolyn set it aside and favored sitting with Alice in her lap, their eyes meeting. Alice’s tongue explored the air, and she squeaked like a petrified mouse when Gwendolyn brushed her fingers over her toes. 

“I have a feeling Mama left a message,” Gwendolyn told Alice. “Shall we go see?” 

Alice’s toothless gums revealed themselves once more, and her uncontrolled fists shot up in the air, nearly catching Gwendolyn in the jaw. Gwendolyn lifted her to her shoulder, observing how well she maintained muscle control in her neck as she held her there. Of course, it was short-lived, and Gwendolyn settled her into a cradle hold. 

“You’re becoming a hip baby,” Gwendolyn hummed. “Mildred is going to be very unhappy with you if you become attached to me.” 

Anything Gwendolyn said resulted in a silly, gummy grin. At that point, Gwendolyn understood the baby was not laughing because she could comprehend anything, she was laughing because she was mimicking everything she had seen around herself. And Mildred made certain of that, even on her darkest, rainiest days. 

“Let’s see if we have a message.” 

Gwendolyn picked up the bottle and motel key and left the room, baby clutched tightly to her chest. Autumn was her favorite season, but she was afraid of Alice becoming cold or catching something, and for the first time, she could understand every mother’s fear. Alice had not left the confines of the motel room since she’d been in a milk crate, and venturing to the motel lobby was enough to worry Gwendolyn. 

Neither Gwendolyn or Mildred quite cared for the newest owner of The Sealight Inn. Mary, or whatever her name was. She was an older woman, much older beyond typical working years, with a curly updo and a bright red sneer like someone had stomped on her glasses and fed her the shards. She was always sat behind the desk with a newspaper shielding her face, Elvis playing in the background. 

Today was no different. Gwendolyn entered the lobby, bottle in one hand and Alice in the other with her head on her shoulder. The woman wrinkled her paper and sent Gwendolyn a telling look that just screamed, “get the hell out.” Gwendolyn paid no mind, approaching the desk while bouncing the infant. 

“May I help you?” asked Mary. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Any messages for room 10?” Gwendolyn questioned. 

Sighing, Mary put on her glasses and rifled through a few papers on the desk. She clicked her tongue and spun around in the chair, her eyes narrowing into slits. 

“From Ratched. She called wanting to know if you were okay,” Mary replied. Her jaw set ominously and her eyes began to zero into Gwendolyn’s soul, scrutinizing her. Gwendolyn swayed fussy Alice. “Listen, I don’t tolerate any type of homosexual fornication in my motel. And where in god’s name did that baby come from? What have you done? I had better not have patrolmen showing up here for a missing child. I run an honest business, and you will not tarnish it with your perversion and disgusting sapphic tendencies.” 

Slighted by Mary’s insinuation, Gwendolyn stuttered for a moment before asking to use the telephone, to which Mary slammed it on the counter and lit up a cigarette as she disappeared into the back room to do who whatever it was she would do in there. 

Gwendolyn dialed the hospital and waited patiently for someone to pick up. On the third ring, someone had picked up, and Gwendolyn held her breath, anticipating Mildred, because she imagined she was loitering by the telephone all day. However, it was Betsy who answered. 

“Betsy! Hi, is Mildred around?” Gwendolyn asked, almost too hastily. 

“Give me just a minute,” Betsy replied, and there was a loud “Mildred!” before some crackling and rustling. 

“Gwendolyn?” Mildred’s wavering voice asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, darling. Everything is fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” said Gwendolyn. She bit her tongue before inquiring the obvious. “Have you been crying?” 

“No. . .” Mildred trailed off. She could not contain the sniffles that left her body. 

“Mildred.”

“I was worried.” Mildred attempted to save herself, trying to push the tears away so Gwendolyn would not suspect more than she already had and quite frankly knew. “I’ve never been away from you in a long time.”

“I know, darling, but everything is okay. Alice and I are just fine. You’ll be home soon, and I’ll have dinner ready for you. We can have a warm bath and talk about your day,” Gwendolyn offered. “How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Mildred responded in a tender sniff. There was a pause before a nearly silent “I love you.”

“And I love you, too.” 

The conversation ended there, and Mildred knew it then, and they were able to hang up, thoroughly satisfied. Gwendolyn knew Mildred was at the hospital crying her pretty eyes out in the restroom, but she also knew that she would be just fine with a bit of time and a few baby steps. 

Baby. Alice was sucking her thumb, much to Gwendolyn’s surprise. Gwendolyn had forgotten her pacifier in the room and Alice somehow had made do on her own accord. Tucking the bottle under her arm, Gwendolyn carried the baby back to their tiny, temporary home and locked them both inside, to please Mildred upon her return this evening. 

“Let’s get something in your belly,” Gwendolyn said, lowering herself into a chair and beginning to feed Alice, who took to it ravenously. “She is going to be so excited to see you, I just know it. She may be a bit grumpy, but that’s because she misses you so much and she’s tired from all the slightly insane people.” 

Alice’s grin around the nipple made Gwendolyn chuckle. Everything was funny to Alice, so it seemed. 

—

Mildred looked awful. And that was a very generous description of her. Her makeup was smudged, her dress wrinkled, her hair in a wild disarray as if she had been pulling it all day. 

She returned home in sluggish movements, and she kicked off her heels somewhere by the door and dropped her keys on the nightstand with a clink, which did not faze her in the slightest. Her lunchbox was clutched in one hand, a hair clip in the other. She placed her half a sandwich on the counter and plopped into a seat at the table, finding an empty baby bottle and a plate awaiting to be filled.

Something was cooking on the stove. It smelled oddly like meat, and Mildred’s stomach churned in agony. After being unable to finish her lunch at the hospital and finding it difficult to hydrate herself during her few too many sobbing sessions in the restroom, Mildred was sure her belly could not handle any more food. 

Gwendolyn left the bathroom with Alice in her arms. She beamed at Mildred and hurried to give her a soft kiss, but Mildred could not reciprocate, the draining sensation in her body overcoming her ability to move her muscles any more than blinking and breathing.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Gwendolyn asked quietly. “You’re upset.”

“I’m just tired. I missed you. . .so much. I couldn’t handle it,” Mildred mumbled. 

“Everything is just fine here. Look,” said Gwendolyn. She placed Alice in Mildred’s lap and waited for Mildred to sluggishly wrap her arms around her and hold her close. “She’s been happy all day long.” 

Mildred played with Alice’s toes, admiring how they curled when touched. While Mildred was preoccupied with gushing over the sweet babe, Gwendolyn served a tender steak and mashed potatoes with a side of carrots on a plate for Mildred. When she set it down in front of Mildred, the woman stared at it with faint disgust.

“I appreciate it, but I can’t eat,” Mildred murmured. “I’m full.”

“You cannot possibly be full, Mildred. Lunch was hours ago and I know you threw the bacon away,” said Gwendolyn. 

Mildred flinched. How did she know about the bacon? “I did eat it. I swear. I swear I ate it!” 

“Mildred, darling. . .I’m not angry with you. No need to be upset.” Gwendolyn’s hand brushed the messy dark hair. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to pretend to eat to please me. I will never be mad if you don’t finish your lunch. But I need you to eat dinner. You’ll become faint, and you still have a long week ahead. Just eat for me. Please.”

Mildred cursed herself. She wanted to spit and kick the table and slap herself for doing such a thing. She knew she shouldn’t have been so wasteful and unappreciative of Gwendolyn’s kindness to help her eat. She did not deserve to eat. 

“I’ll put Alice down and we can have a nice dinner, followed by a hot bubble bath, like I promised,” Gwendolyn assured. She took cooing Alice from Mildred, leaving Mildred cold and alone, and laid her on their bed. 

“You’re still wearing that apron,” observed Mildred as Gwendolyn served herself a plate and sat with her at the table. 

Gwendolyn chuckled softly, and it sounded like birds singing at dawn. “So I am.” 

And they ate. Well, Gwendolyn ate. Mildred picked at her food and made a mote out of her potatoes and gravy like a stubborn child would. She managed to force one carrot slice into her mouth, and Gwendolyn smiled as she ate it. As the meal continued, Mildred had shoveled in two very small bites of potatoes, one sliver of steak, and four carrot slices, and Gwendolyn decided it would be a victory. 

Mildred offered to clean up. Despite their nuclear roles, Gwendolyn did not mind if Mildred insisted. She allowed the nurse to wash the dishes and scrub the pans, and Gwendolyn fed Alice another bottle before putting her down for the evening. She dimmed the lights, allowing the baby to sleep, and ran a very hot bath for both herself and Mildred, whenever Mildred decided she was done scrubbing the pattern off their plates. 

Mildred had no qualms in removing her uniform and hanging it over the rack as Gwendolyn poured a drop of bubble bath into the water. The bubbles were softer than midnight moonlight and smelled like honey. Mildred dipped a hand into the water, testing it, and she hissed.

“Too hot. It will boil us.”

Although Gwendolyn was slightly concerned, she made no comments as she ran the cold tap for a minute, and when Mildred tested it again, she smiled softly in gratification. 

“Better. Much better.”

Gwendolyn removed her clothes—that goddamn apron, finally—and stepped into the bathtub first, inviting Mildred to follow. And Mildred did, sitting back-to-chest in front of Gwendolyn. The older woman gently caressed Mildred’s scarred skin, allowing her to melt into her body like clay conforming around a child’s hands. 

They remained there for what felt like eternity, or at least until the sun was completely down, until the water was too cold, almost as cold as an ice bath. Mildred hummed in content although she began to shiver, little goosebumps rising on her skin. 

“You’re going to catch a cold, Mildred,” Gwendolyn murmured. “Let’s get some sleep, hm?”

Mildred was too relaxed and balm in the faded bubbles, and Gwendolyn chuckled. They would get out soon enough, but in the moment, Gwendolyn just wanted to hold her for awhile longer, until Alice awakened and began to cry.


End file.
